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chapter twenty-seven

Chronoport Hammerhead-Prime

Transverse, non-congruent


“Directors, the fleet’s formation is stable,” reported Captain Okunnu aboard Hammerhead-Prime. “Now holding distance at one hundred chens ahead of Phoenix. Gordian TTVs have phase-locked with the fleet, and Agent Kaminski is online for you.”

Jonas Shigeki acknowledged the comm request and shifted the window so his father, seated beside him, could participate. He’d explained Vassal’s plan to his father.

To him, and no one else.

The resulting discussion had been . . . unpleasant. And not much of a “discussion.” Not that the unpleasantness had surprised Jonas; he’d fully expected to invoke his father’s wrath, a rare event these days. The seething reprimand that followed made him feel twenty years younger—and a whole lot dumber—but he’d let the words flow over him with little in the way of a defense, confident he could convince his father in the end.

Once some semblance of calm had returned to their discourse, Jonas explained the detail that won him over in the end. The AI had doomed himself with his words, and in response Jonas had—at the very least—doomed his career with his actions. But both individuals—natural and artificial—held the Admin’s best interests at heart, both willing to make sacrifices to preserve it.

Shigeki had made one final, blunt point, if shaded with understanding. There would be a price to pay for this betrayal, and Jonas would need to pay it willingly.

But that was a problem for tomorrow.

For now, they had a crisis to avert.

And a ship to kill.

“Acting-Director Shigeki here,” Jonas said. “Go ahead, Agent Kaminski.”

“Glad to see you got my message and brought the cavalry.”

“That we did. How are your ships?”

“A few bumps and bruises. We’re all still in the fight.”

“Good to hear. We’ll take all the help we can get. Any changes to report?”

“Not much, I’m afraid, and none of it is good news. Whatever damage we inflicted to their impeller seems to have been contained. The resonance after the nuclear strike tapered down to normal levels about half an hour after Alcyone left, and it’s been stable ever since. Same with their temporal speed, field strength, and basically every other metric we can observe. We stung them, but it doesn’t seem like we inflicted any lasting damage.”

“We’ll see if we can’t sting them a bit harder now that the fleet’s here. Anything else?”

“Just your STAND ground team. According to their last telegraph, they were trying to reach any of the ship’s critical systems in order to plant demo charges, but they suffered heavy casualties and were forced to evade internal security. That was hours ago, and we haven’t been able to raise them since. It’s possible they’re unwilling to use their telegraph for fear it’ll give away their position, or . . . ”

“Or they’re all dead,” Jonas finished.

“That crossed our minds as well.”

Jonas glanced over to his father, who shook his head. Both men had known Noxon their entire lives. The man had been a fixture of the Shigeki family security since before Csaba Shigeki had spoken his first words! It was almost impossible to imagine anything killing that man.

Almost. But not quite.

“Then we should assume the worst,” Jonas said, “and exclude the ground team from our plans.”

“That . . . seems prudent,” Raibert said, a subtle waver in his voice.

“Is there anything else, Agent?”

“No, Director.”

“Then I’ll transfer you back to our telegraph operator. She’ll help integrate your TTVs into our fleet. For now, maintain phase-lock with the command ship.”

“Understood.”

The comm window closed.

“And now it’s our turn,” Jonas said quietly. He reviewed the fleet’s disposition ahead of Phoenix and turned to Shigeki. “One-Alpha, you reckon?”

“Agreed. We brought the suppressors along to be used.”

“Then we’ll go with that.” Jonas cleared his throat. “Telegraph, signal Portcullis-Prime. They’re to execute One-Alpha.”

“Spooling your orders now, sir.”

The four mobile suppressors and an escort of eight chronoports dropped behind the fleet, closing to within fifty chens of Phoenix. Four teardrop-shaped bubbles representing the suppression fields expanded back from each vessel, merging into a singular balloon formed from concentric shapes that grew brighter near the center.

The suppression field continued to expand until it bisected the Phoenix’s drive field.

Jonas tabbed over to a detailed chronometric report. He wasn’t Hinnerkopf’s equal when it came to understanding the science behind chronometric tech, but his stint as Under-Director of Suppression had taught him more than a thing or two about how suppression fields worked.

“Are we having any effect?” Shigeki asked.

“Not much,” Jonas said. “The interference from the suppressors has reduced their field strength, but only by a few percentage points. Not enough to affect their speed. Telegraph, order the suppressors closer. Twenty chens.”

“Yes, sir. Spooling the telegraph now.”

The mobile suppressors dropped back further, and the warm heart of their overlapping fields pressed into Phoenix’s drive signature. The warship continued on course, its speed unaffected.

“I was expecting at least a small change,” Shigeki said quietly.

“Telegraph, order the suppressors to ten chens,” Jonas ordered.

The mobile suppressors took up positions dangerously close to Phoenix. Everything Jonas knew about the Institute warship told him the suppressors were safe, that their superior speed and positioning would keep them out of harm’s way. But the Institute had surprised them plenty of times already, and they’d had forty years to prepare for this confrontation with the DTI.

They know all our tricks, Jonas thought, and we’re still in the dark when it comes to their true capabilities.

“There,” Shigeki said. “Its speed is dropping.”

“But only by six percent.” Jonas frowned. “It’s not enough. At that power level, the fields will handicap our ships far more than Phoenix. We’d be robbing any chronoports we send in of their superior speed.”

“Then it seems the suppressors won’t play a role in this fight.”

“I’m afraid not. Telegraph, order the suppressors to cease One-Alpha and return to formation.”

The order went out, and twelve chronoports pulled away and slotted back into formation with the rest of the fleet.

“It would have been nice if we could pin Phoenix in place,” Jonas said. “Or slow them down long enough for Gordian to catch up.”

“The Institute knew we’d try to shut down their drive,” Shigeki said. “It only makes sense they’d have a countermeasure.”

“Which appears to be nothing fancier than ‘just build a big-ass impeller.’” Jonas sighed. “Time to get our hands dirty, I suppose. What do you think? Proceed with Three-Beta?”

“That seems to be our best option at the moment.”

“Then Three-Beta it is. Telegraph, distribute these orders to the fleet. All forces will advance on the enemy and execute attack plan Three-Beta.”

* * *

“Looks like they’re giving up,” Rose said as the suppressors pulled away.

“We should only be so lucky,” Xenophon said, studying the tactical map. “That was just the first round. The DTI won’t quit until either we’re dead, or they are.”

“But the impeller held against their suppressors. That’s the important part.”

“I don’t mean to minimize that success. We’ve cleared an important hurdle, that much is certain. Now it’s a question of what they’ll try next.” Xenophon glanced to the ship status screen. “How’s the impeller?”

“Could be better. The biggest problem is a stress fracture along the spike’s base.”

“From the nukes?”

“Yeah. Our drones have patched up most of the damage. It wasn’t pretty; I basically had them beating the spike back into shape, but they got the job done. This fracture’s more challenging to deal with, though.”

“Why?”

“I’d have to take the impeller off-line to seal it properly.”

Xenophon snorted. “Well, that’s not happening.”

“Best I can do is reinforce segments around the fracture. I’ve also reconfigured the spike’s armor to compensate. The armor’s now thickest around the fracture. As long as the impeller doesn’t suffer catastrophic damage elsewhere, we should be fine.”

The enemy fleet split ahead of the Phoenix, their signatures diverging into four distinct clusters. Analytics appeared beneath each cluster, denoting estimated force strengths and compositions.

Xenophon knew, intellectually at least, that transdimensional combat involved a great deal of uncertainty until opposing forces phase-locked. There was no way to see your opponent otherwise. No way to know for certain the foe’s spatial orientation or vector relative to your own.

The size of the forces involved helped clear back some of the guesswork, their numbers forming aggregates of data that clarified their spatial positions to a degree. It also helped that the Admin chronoports were running with their baffles retracted, maximizing their speed at the cost of stealth.

The temporal velocity of the engagement was also a factor. He’d christened Phoenix a dreadnought for a reason, and its armor and weaponry lived up to the ancient name.

But you can’t have it all, Xenophon mused. You want the best defense, offense, and speed? Not going to happen! Pick one or two of those to maximize and kiss the third goodbye.

Thirty-six kilofactors was a ponderous transdimensional speed, to put it mildly. Gordian TTVs could reach seventy, and Admin chronoports maxed out at a blazing ninety-five. Rose had even heard rumors, back when she still worked for SysPol, that the Admin was working on a method to make their chronoports even faster. Something about an “afterburner for chronotons,” which made no sense to him. Chronotons didn’t burn, so he assumed the description was a gross oversimplification. Something dumbed down enough for Shigeki to wrap his stunted gray cells around.

Regardless, their enemies were faster and more maneuverable.

The Institute had willfully sacrificed speed to turn Phoenix into an impregnable fortress bristling with capital lasers and mass drivers, all the better to defend its precious cargo. Ultimately, the warship didn’t need to survive, nor did he expect it to; it just needed to reach the Admin.

“We’re getting a better picture of the splits,” Rose said. “Two groups are moving up, about fifteen chronoports strong each. A third, smaller group is following them, but they’re not closing at the same rate. That one has maybe five or six ships. And then we have the fourth group hanging back, sticking to the fleet’s original position ahead of us. Unless they performed some sleight of hand, that’s where the suppressors are.”

“Makes sense. Portcullis suppressors carry nothing heavier than ship-to-ship point defense. Essentially useless against our armor. But I’m less sure what that third group is doing. Any thoughts on why they’re hanging back?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Hmm.” Xenophon zoomed in on the small cluster, but no revelations came to him. “We’ll find out soon enough. We knew the DTI would control the ebb and flow of any engagement. Fortunately, all we have to do is weather the storm.”

* * *

“Guardian and Pathfinder squadrons now on final approach from above the target,” Okunnu reported. “Defender and Barricade squadrons coming in from below.”

“Very good,” Jonas said. “Bring us within ten chens directly in front of the Phoenix and hold relative position.”

“Yes, Director. Navigator, hold at ten chens.”

All five of the fleet’s Hammerheads settled into position ahead of—and safely out of phase with—the Institute warship while thirty Pioneers raced to engage it from two angles. Jonas watched the engagement play out through the fog of transdimensional uncertainty, the icons converging in a dance that was part data, part mathematical model, part guesswork.

Pioneer squadrons were armed with fewer nukes than Jonas would have liked and they possessed lower yields than the monsters the Hammerheads carried, owing in part to the smaller missile chassis the lighter chronoports used.

The other reason the fleet didn’t have enough nukes was that the DTI had yet to replenish its stock of nuclear-tipped missiles since the Dynasty Crisis. There’d always seemed to be more pressing demands on time, personnel, and budgets, especially with so many new chronoports to build and staff. And honestly, who’d thought the DTI would need to expend yet another apocalyptic quantity of nuclear weapons so soon? Jonas sure hadn’t! Otherwise, he would have found a way to weasel more money into the budget!

No point fretting over it now, Jonas thought. These are the ships and the weapons we have. I just hope they’re enough.

And if we do fail to stop Phoenix, well, then I guess I’ll get to see if I made the right call with Vassal.

That is, if I live through the next few hours.

Pioneer squadrons now engaging the target, sir.”

Jonas nodded and watched the unfolding battle.

* * *

“Here they come,” Xenophon said softly.

Thirty chronoports phased in, rushing Phoenix from two opposing angles, and Xenophon immediately saw they were all Pioneers. Railguns and lasers pummeled the dreadnought’s armor while missiles sprinted out of modular box launchers.

The dreadnought’s defenses flashed into action. Point defense lasers and Gatling guns spat beams and bullets, while capital weapons rose to the armored surface and locked onto individual ships. High-energy lances bored into the chronoports, and kinetic slugs punched through their armor.

A chronoport exploded. Then another. A third listed to the side, and its impeller shattered, consuming the hull in a shower of flickering, interposing debris. Fragments from the chronoport’s own drive phased through its hull and tore the ship apart from the inside out.

The two forces volleyed lasers and kinetics back and forth, and more chronoports died as the two shoals of high-speed missiles grew to staggering volumes.

“We’ve got over four hundred sixty missiles incoming!” Rose shouted. “If even half of those are nukes, we’re—”

“Task all weapons over to point defense,” Xenophon ordered. “Don’t let them through!”

“Switching modes!”

Capital mass drivers called up massive fragmentation rounds and belched them into space while capital lasers reduced their output, winking rapidly from missile to missile, each energetic whisker still strong enough to fry the incoming projectiles. Frag rounds detonated ahead of the missiles, expanding into conical clouds that pulverized anything in their path with deadly, metallic rain. Missiles were crushed, shattered, shredded, cooked, and vaporized by the scores.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Energize the hull!” Xenophon ordered. “Brace for impact!”

“Oh, shit!” Rose cried. “This is going to hurt!”

Thirty-seven missiles reached the Phoenix, and of those, nine were nuclear-tipped. Conventional explosives erupted in brief flashes against the dreadnought’s armor and managed to take out a pair of laser point defense pods and one capital mass driver.

The nuclear missiles did far more.

Nine fusion pyres ignited into a strange constellation of stars, and shock waves rippled across the dreadnought’s hull. Kilotons of intelligent armor vaporized in a flash, and the torrent of x-rays, gamma rays, and free neutrons savaged every exposed system.

But for all the surface carnage, the dreadnought’s core systems remained intact, shielded beneath meters of armor and buffered by powerful shock absorbers. The ship’s powerplants, drive systems, and self-repair functions survived, and most importantly, so did the Revenants remained safely cocooned within the ship’s hangar.

“They’re pulling back,” Rose reported, her relief palpable. “The surviving chronoports are breaking phase-lock.”

“How bad did they hit us?” Xenophon asked.

“Over twenty percent of our surface weapons are off-line. Several more aren’t looking too good.”

“Submerge the damaged pods and organize the repairs. Prioritize the least-damaged weapons first. We need to get them back online as soon as possible.”

“Setting it up now.” Rose summoned a new interface, but then paused and glanced toward the plot. “That third group is advancing toward us.”

“Of course, they are,” Xenophon groaned.

* * *

Hammerhead-Prime sped toward Phoenix at the center of the heavy chronoport formation. The Institute warship snapped into focus directly in front of them, and weapons on both sides cut loose.

Lasers stabbed into the warship’s hull, and railguns pounded its surface. Damage alarms flashed across the chronoport squadron, and Hammerhead-Prime shuddered from an impact.

Jonas clenched his teeth as another shock rumbled up through his seat, and damage indicators flashed yellow and red in his peripheral vision. Loud thunks echoed through the ship while missiles dashed out of the heavy chronoport’s internal launchers.

There were far fewer projectiles this time—only twenty-five in total—but each missile was over six times the size of anything a Pioneer fired. They were hardened weapons, able to survive a considerable amount of defensive fire, and came equipped with deployable swarms of escort decoys.

Those decoys scattered about the original missiles, and twenty-five projectiles transformed into three hundred and twenty-five signatures, all blitzing toward Phoenix.

Defensive fire thinned their ranks, ignoring the chronoports for the moment, while the Hammerheads used the brief reprieve to target exposed weapon systems with their proton lasers and heavy railguns. Eight warheads survived to reach the surface, and they erupted with energy equivalent to four hundred megatons of TNT.

The Hammerheads broke phase-lock and pulled back to the fleet.

“Damage report,” Jonas said.

“Hit to forward compartments,” Okunnu reported. “The hull breach has been sealed, but our chronometric dish is off-line. Engineers are assessing the situation.”

“What about the fleet?”

“We’re still in the process of collecting reports from the other squadrons.”

Jonas sank back and waited a few short minutes.

“Sir, I have a summary ready for you now.”

“Go ahead.”

“Three Pioneers destroyed and varying levels of damage spread across the survivors. Some of the captains are requesting time to make emergency repairs before going back in. Fortunately, the Hammerheads made it through mostly unscathed—it seems Phoenix was already in a defensive posture when we locked—but Hammerhead-Two took a nasty hit to her launcher. She can’t fire any more nukes until the debris is cleared.”

“And Phoenix?”

“Multiple hits confirmed before we backed off, but no indications we punched through the surface. The target’s speed and field strength have remained relatively stable.”

“Tough bastard,” Shigeki muttered. “And we’re already down half our nukes.”

“Then we’ll just have to be tougher,” Jonas said quietly, then spoke up. “Find out how much time Hammerhead-Two needs to get her launcher online. We’re going back in as soon as they’re ready.”



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